Resurrection (Apocalypse Chronicles Part II) (4 page)

I had the feeling Doc was proud of his victory until I spoke again.

“I don’t understand. The only reason you wouldn’t need the rifle is if you weren’t with us.” My heart constricted with my next thought, which I voiced as a command more than a question.
“You’re not leaving us
…are you?”

This caused Beverly to stop.

“No, Beverly,” he called out to her. “I’m not.”

She started walking again, but I didn’t feel any more at ease.

“Then why-”

“I don’t necessarily have to leave physically, Kennedy. I could be incapacitated. I could get…sick…”

I scoffed to show him that simply didn’t seem probable. Not him. Not with that body.

It didn’t deter him. “You will be the one to defend everyone else when I’m…if I’m no longer…capable of it. You’re the only one with the skill set able enough.”

“Ummm…,” Doc mumbled, openly offended.

“Doc will be helpful too,” Harrison added, but it was primarily to placate him.

What Harrison said was correct. By way of hierarchy in combat, I was second-in-command, whether I liked it or not. Yet there was something else he wasn’t telling me. Something that unnerved him, that kept causing him to stutter and search for the right words to convince me. So I couldn’t let it go.

“It just doesn’t make sense, Harrison.”

“Hey, Doc?” he said quickly, redirecting his attention from me. “Can I have one of those cupcakes now?”

He smirked, dug a package from his pocket and tossed it to Harrison, who began removing the two small cakes. Knowing they were intended for me, I gave Doc a solid glare. He shrugged it off.

It worked. I was too busy consuming my meal over the next few minutes. But on my last bite, as I secretly savored the final swallow, we rounded the corner of a stretch of highway and I froze in place. Beverly was already leaning forward, squinting into the woods with perplexity.

“I think… I think there’s…,” she muttered.

“Someone in there?” Mei asked in a rush.

“Some
thing
in there,” I corrected her.

The slats of horizontal wood stood unremarkably and unobtrusively just off the side of the road.

“Is that a house?” Doc asked, having joined the rest of us in assessing it from afar.

“Probably a building to hold some type of electrical equipment,” Harrison said.

“Yeah,” Doc replied, contemplatively. “Yeah, right…”

“Do you think it’s…,” Mei began, but hesitated to focus on answering her own question. “Safe?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Harrison said. “The rest of you can stay here if you want. I’ll give you a signal if it’s all clear.”

My decision had been made the second he took his first step, so I settled into pace beside him. There was no telling what might be in the woods or hidden behind that building, and I wasn’t going to let Harrison go in alone, regardless of how much my legs didn’t want to follow. The crunch of gravel behind us told me the others apparently felt it was best not to be left behind either.

We hurdled the guard rail and started across the grass while Beverly muttered in disgust as her heels sank into the spongy, saturated mud. When Mei pointed out, “It’s almost dusk,” I translated that to mean “this place better be good enough to spend the night because we are out of daylight.”

The sun had already sunk below the horizon, bringing out the frosty evening air and making the woods along the freeway a swath of dark, eerie green. Soon, they’d be black and we would be freezing, exposed, and vulnerable. I was looking forward to getting inside, where at least the four stone walls would offer some protection from the elements…and anything else that might do us harm.

Then Harrison came to a standstill and his head tilted up, reminding me of an animal sensing danger.

This was my last thought before somebody swung around the edge of the building, slumped to the side but still standing, still breathing, still living, but not alive. He was a teenager, having been pumped full of enough dairy hormones to equal Doc’s build. He might have been a football player on his high school team at one point, which would make him agile, aggressive, and able to take brute force. His lettermen jacket was shredded, the white strips having turned pink from stains. His head rose, his eyes landed on us, and he lurched into a sprint. And then the next four came into view, wearing their lettermen jackets. And the next four after them…

CHAPTER 2

I
NOTICED TWO ACTIONS TAKE PLACE
almost simultaneously. First, the rest of our group turned and fled back in the direction of the freeway, probably thinking we’d follow. Second, Harrison broke into a full-out run, digging his toes into the soggy grass deep enough to leave hollowed arcs in their wake. The problem was, he was heading
in the direction of
the Infected.

My heart sprang into my throat, blocking me from screaming his name, as I watched his body charge them like a bull. I tried again to voice his name but by then it wouldn’t have mattered. He had already hit the point of no return, and my heart sank back in my chest pounding chaotically.

I had been walking in the ready position, with my muzzle skyward. All I needed to do was plant the butt to my shoulder, aim and fire. I can do this in two seconds flat, but not when someone I love,
not when Harrison
is in the way.

The Infected came at him full force, arms flailing, growling, snarling. Their momentum shook the ground, driving them forward until they consumed Harrison, covering him in one massive heap of twisting bodies.

Terror struck me so deep that the world seemed to stop. I no longer felt the rapidly freezing air or smelled the fresh dirt or heard the sounds of Harrison being torn apart. I ran for him, numb to anything or anyone beyond the concept of reaching him and pulling him free.

They were so intent on getting to Harrison that none of them noticed me. Not when I fired off a round into one of their heads. Not when I fired a round through the neck of another. Not even the bodies of my victims rolling down the heap distracted their frenzy as I kept aiming and firing at anyone who stuck their head up.

Three down
, I counted.
Four…Five
.

I began to catch glimpses of Harrison in the tangle of bodies, his barred teeth, the curve of his jaw. He was just as bloody as the others now. Streaks of red smeared his face and arms. His hair was matted an alarming crimson color.

Six down.

Harrison’s face appeared and disappeared. Two hands slipped out from the chaos, grabbed a head and snapped it. The Infected went limp, sliding lifelessly to the ground a second later.

I took aim at another Infected. Fired.

Seven down
…

A head drove upward, seeking a better angle of flesh. I swung the muzzle in its direction and pulled the trigger. And then I heard the click and saw the two rounds jammed forward. I cleared them, noticing that my target was still there, mouth open and ready. So I gave him a forward kick to the face, making solid contact with the Infected’s head. It snapped to the side, in an unnatural angle. He stopped instantly, which surprised me. I’d expected him to keep biting. When he toppled off the pile-up, I reasoned I must have broken his neck, stopping the blood flow that kept the Infected going.

Three were left on Harrison, and with less weight and more room now, he was able to finish them off before I could assist.

And then the silence came, saturating the air with an eerie calm. No movement came from Harrison or the Infected laying on top of him, or from the bodies spread in a disturbing circle around the spot where the pile-up had been. My focus remained locked on the center of it, searching for any sign of life, a shift, a jostle, anything that might signal Harrison was still alive.

Time passed not in seconds but years, decades as I waited.
Too long
, my mind told me…
it’s taking too long
. He should be moving by now, standing in front of me with his wise, attentive gaze scanning the horizon for further threats.

He can’t be
…, my mind screamed.
No. NO! He’s too strong, too resilient. He’s invincible. He can’t be de-

Then an Infected’s torso tilted upward and rolled off Harrison. Below it, limbs moved and suddenly Harrison was picking himself off the ground. I sprang forward in a rush to help, but I was met with his palm.

“Stay back.”

I didn’t even hear him. My inability to leap over the pile of the dead Infected quickly enough was the only thing that kept me from getting to him.

I glanced up during my effort and found he was on his feet, making himself and his injuries fully visible.

He was shredded, as if he’d been skinned alive.

Instantly, my stomach knotted, sickened by the damage done to him.

“No…” I whispered. My voice was distant, hollow but the anguish was almost palpable.

He didn’t address me immediately, remaining stunningly composed as he stepped backwards over a body, away from me. Still fighting off the surreal sight of him, I didn’t immediately register that he was still holding up his hand to ward me off.

“Stay back,” he repeated.

He was bloody, soaked in it. But he wasn’t concerned I’d run and embrace him. He wasn’t worried about the Infected’s blood covering him. There was something else on his mind.

In a disturbing change of course, he stopped and stood up straight before commanding in a steady tone, “Kennedy, take aim at me.”

Take aim at me…
His words rolled through my head. I tried to grasp their meaning but I couldn’t.

“What?” I said, stepping forward.

“Stop!” he shouted, forceful enough to make me obey.

“The rifle,” he said. “Aim the muzzle at me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Do it.”

My eyes widened. I swallowed. “No…”

“Do it!”

“NO!”

Suddenly, he came at me, crossing the space between us so quickly I didn’t have time to take a breath. His fingers wrapped around the muzzle. Then it was lifting in my arms, stopping where he placed it…with the opening at his forehead.

Every fiber of my being contracted.

This wasn’t right. It opposed everything trained or innately bred within me. One of the three rules in firearms was to never, ever point the muzzle at anything you don’t want to destroy. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t destroy him. Yet here he was, positioning the weapon at his head.

“No, Harrison!” I tried to pull away, astutely conscious that my finger was clear of the trigger guard, but he and all his strength drew it back. “Stop, damn it!”

The fury in his eyes was what ended the struggle. A single glimpse of it told me that he wasn’t playing and wouldn’t yield. He was lethally serious and he was going to keep that muzzle on him whether it was by my hand or his own.

My instinct was to release the gun, to let him have it. But I hesitated because I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t pull the trigger on himself. The question that haunted me as we stared each other down along the length of the barrel was…
why?

“What are you doing, Harrison?”

His lips pinched closed.

“Why are you doing this?”

A soft, quiet voice behind me answered for him. “He thinks he’s infected.”

“Tell him that he’s not, Mei.”

“He won’t believe me.”

“You’re not infected, Harrison.”

His nostrils flared but he maintained his stance, never wavering in his stare or removing his fingers from the barrel.

So I began to plead. “Please, Harrison, let go.”

He heard me. His eyes twitched as he began to question himself.

“Let go,” I whispered, wanting more than ever before to breach the distance rigidly in place between us. “Let go…”

His stare faltered, the intensity of it lessening, but still he didn’t move.

“It’s been more than sixty seconds,” Mei announced quietly, as if she didn’t want to disturb our private war.

It didn’t happen instantly, but it did happen. His shoulders dropped, his fingers lifted from the barrel, and his stare finally,
finally
broke from mine.

As he stepped around me and walked away, I realized I was shaking, and that I was curling and uncurling my free hand without knowing it.

Doc ran after him, preparing to put a comforting hand on his shoulder before thinking better of it. “I’m sorry, man, I…I thought you were behind me and when I looked back you were gone.”

We all knew what he meant…buried beneath a mountain of Infected.

Harrison replied earnestly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“We couldn’t understand why Kennedy was just standing there…shooting at the Infected,” Mei called out, and Harrison glanced back at me. “We screamed for her but…”